The Past is Past
by Sandysha
Summary: Johnny finds that he has a family that accepts him as both Johnny Lancer and Johnny Madrid. Co-authored by Mary Branch, Terri Derr (Doc) and SandySha. The story will also be on the Lancer Lover website.


The Past is Past

Co-Authored by Mary Branch, Terri Derr (Doc), and Sandy Sharp (SandySha)

..

(Mary and Doc)

..

It was over in a second. It was always over in a second. Johnny dropped his hand, his Colt still smoking, and watched Parker crumple to the ground. He walked over and kicked Parker's pistol out of reach. Squatting next to the gunman he watched the life fade from his eyes.

Funny how time seemed to stand still just before a gunfight. Funny how quick it picked up after.

Johnny holstered his gun and checked the dead man's pockets. Only a couple of dollars—Gabe Parker couldn't even pay for his own funeral. Johnny stood when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Saw it all, son," a man's voice said. "You're clear."

Johnny nodded at the sheriff and handed him Parker's cash. "He had a couple of bucks. His horse can cover expenses. If you need more…" He reached into his own pocket to pull out more money. His hand came back bloody.

"You Murdoch's boy?" the man asked.

"Yes, he is."

Johnny stiffened at his father's deep voice. "This has nothing to do with him," he told the sheriff quietly.

The man nodded. "Go home, boy."

Go home? Where was home? He looked again at the bloody coins in his hand.

"John?" Murdoch was close behind him now—too close. Johnny clenched his fist to hide the blood and set out for the livery.

Two sets of footsteps followed him. Damn. Scott was here, too. Likely saw the whole thing, saw his little brother in all his bloody glory. Now they would finally understand he wasn't…he couldn't…

He stumbled. His father's strong hand caught his arm.

He shrugged it off. "Leave me alone."

Inside the livery he paused just long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dimness; he focused on his tack hanging near Barranca's stall. The graze from Parker's bullet was beginning to hurt. He'd hoped the shock would've lasted long enough to get saddled up. Damn. He walked over and reached for the pad on top of his saddle.

Another set of hands got there first. "What does this make? Eleven? Twelve?"

Johnny shut his eyes. "Shut up, Scott. It's nothing."

"Well, your nothing is soaking your shirt."

Johnny looked down at himself. Scott was right. Scott was damn near always right.

"As I recall, Johnny, the criteria for being shot include being hit by a bullet, and bleeding. Check and check."

"What are you talking about?" Murdoch leaned between them. "Johnny, are you shot?"

"I'm okay. Just a graze. I wanna get out of here."

Scott and Murdoch exchanged a glance.

"Okay, little brother. Let me help and we'll be out of here sooner."

As much as he wanted to be alone, he couldn't fault the logic. With a sigh, he took the bridle and left the heavy saddle to Scott. As Scott tightened the cinch, Johnny dug a bandana out of his saddlebag. He stuffed it inside his shirt, wiped his hands on his pants, and led Barranca out.

"That needs better care than that, son."

"It's fine," Johnny repeated and swung up onto the horse with a grunt.

"Where are we going?" Scott was hefting his saddle onto his horse.

"I don't know where _you're_ going." Johnny kicked Barranca and shot off down the street, out of town, away from the pointing fingers and the stares.

He kept up the pace until he turned off the road. He rode slower into some trees. From there he could see the direction he had come.

Parker never rode alone.

..

He came to with a start, sitting against a tree, Colt in hand, shivering. The sun was nearly down, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. The stomp of a hoof nearby told him Barranca had waited for him. The comforting scent of a woodfire confused him. He hadn't started a fire, he was sure.

When he got up he remembered the gunshot wound, and remembering made it throb. He stuck his hand inside his shirt and yanked on the stiffened bandana, pulling it out. At least his fingers stayed dry. He was about to holster his gun when he heard footsteps.

Johnny slid behind a tree, gun at the ready, and tried to see who he was facing. If it was one of Parker's boys he was pretty sure he wouldn't be alive right now, but it was possible they hadn't been able to find him in the twilight forest.

"Johnny?"

Scott. Who else? It was probably Scott who made the fire he was smelling. Probably had coffee brewing, too. Sometimes Scott made Johnny feel better just by being Scott.

"I'm here."

He could track his brother by the sound of his boots in the leaves. When he was close Johnny stepped out from his hiding place. He stumbled, caught himself, and tried to cover it with "Boo!"

Scott backpedaled and fell on his butt. "Damnit Johnny!"

If he'd felt better he'd laugh, but Johnny didn't really feel all that good. "Sorry, Scott."

He made his way over to his brother, and helped him up. Scott kept hold of his arm once he was on his feet, and he maneuvered Johnny further into the woods, into a clearing where the little fire was flickering.

"Got any coffee there?"

Scott nodded and sat Johnny down on the ground where he had a bedroll already opened up. He filled a cup from a small pot in the fire. Johnny folded his hands around it, took a sip, and felt the warmth slide down his throat. Scott had a cup, too, and for a few minutes they both just sat there, warming up.

Johnny eyes wanted to close. Sometimes he forgot how much a gunfight took out of him. "Did you see anyone else around?"

His brother sighed that big sigh he had, the one that came from down around his toes somewhere. "If you'd stayed just a bit longer in town you'd have known that the men travelling with Parker tried to rob a store during your gunfight. The sheriff locked them up."

Scott looked closely at him. "I knew you'd be keeping a lookout. It wasn't easy to find you, but Remmie did the trick."

"Yeah?"

Scott nodded. "Barranca hollered when he heard us riding by. I gave Remmie his head and he got me up here. You were sleeping like a babe, albeit a heavily armed babe. So I built us a fire and kept an eye on you until you woke up."

Johnny's head was fuzzy and the throbbing in his side was worse. But he was warmer now, and happy to know he wasn't going to have to face anyone else tonight.

Except Murdoch.

"Where's the old man?"

Scott snorted. "He's home, ready to tend your wound and cool your fevered brow whenever you deign to return."

"Hmm."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Johnny's eyelids got heavier until he couldn't hold them open anymore. He listed to one side, and Scott gently pushed him to the ground. He placed a saddle pad under Johnny's head and covered him with the rest of the bedroll.

..

Ch. 2

(SandySha)

..

Scott's head jerked up when he heard his sleeping brother moan softly. Johnny settled back down, and Scott added another log to the fire.

Johnny hadn't woken during the night, only moaned a few times. Twice, though, when nightmares threatened, Scott had rubbed his brother's back while whispering reassuring words. _"I'm here, Johnny, go back to sleep. I'll watch your back."_

Each time Johnny snuggled back into the makeshift pillow and relaxed.

..

With the first hint of the morning breeze, the fire flared.

Scott closed his eyes, thinking back to the day before. He, like his father, had stood frozen as Johnny and Gabe Parker faced each other in Morro Coyo. Scott remembered the two men talking, but their words were meaningless. His focus was only on his brother.

When the two shots rang out, he'd jumped. It was only then he realized he'd been holding his breath.

Advancing on his brother he saw what his father hadn't. Johnny was bleeding…again. Johnny always seemed to be bleeding.

When Johnny rode away, Scott told his father he would follow. Murdoch nodded agreement and said he'd wait at home. Before turning away, their father had looked at him with weary eyes and voiced only one request, "Bring him home, Scott."

..

On the other side of the fire, a faint groan signaled Johnny was waking. Seeing the bedroll tossed aside, Scott was on his feet and across the clearing. Kneeling next to his brother, he was met by dark blue eyes looking up at him.

"Good morning, little brother."

"Morning," Johnny's tired voice greeted him. "Got some water?"

Scott went back to his overturned saddle and picked up a canteen. By the time he'd returned, Johnny was sitting up.

"Here," Scott handed Johnny the canteen. "Go slow."

Nodding, Johnny took the canteen and started to drink.

"Feeling better?"

Johnny handed the canteen back and felt the wound on his side. He seemed satisfied when he pulled his hand back and there was no blood on it.

"Some." Johnny ran his fingers through his hair and looked around. "You got any coffee?"

"Made a pot a couple of hours ago. Would you like anything to eat?"

Scott watched Johnny grimace at the thought of food.

"No, just the coffee."

Pouring two cups, Scott handed one to Johnny and sat beside him. Scott shifted so that he was shoulder to shoulder with his brother as they watched the sunrise, enjoying the warmth of the coffee and each other's company.

"You stay awake all night?" Johnny asked looking around the campsite.

Scott nodded, "Someone had to watch your back. That was my job last night."

Johnny lowered his head and smiled, "Thanks."

"You know you don't have to do everything by yourself, don't you? You're part of a family now, and we'll take care of you."

"Never had anyone to take care of me before, Scott. Not sure I know how to let someone take care of me." Johnny sighed and looked at Scott before saying with a faint smile, "It feels good though. I could get used to it."

Scott put an arm around his brother's shoulder and pulled him closer, noticing Johnny didn't resist the embrace.

"Parker's men really get locked up? All of them?"

"As far as I know they're all in Sheriff Turner's jail."

"That the man I met yesterday? I didn't know his name. Guess Morro Coyo is getting right up there when they finally hire a Sheriff. I take it he knows the old man."

"Yes, the town is growing up and, yes, I believe Murdoch and the Sheriff are on a first name basis. Murdoch told me the Sheriff's name is Gabe Turner. He and Val have already talked."

Johnny's head shot up. "About what?"

"About you. Val and Sheriff Turner will let us know if anyone comes into the area looking for you."

Johnny didn't say anything. He really didn't know what to say. He now had two more people looking out for him after years of no one.

Scott stood up and stretched, knowing it was time to go home.

"I believe we'd better get home before our father comes looking for us."

"You think the old man's mad 'cause I rode out yesterday?"

"No, I don't think he's mad. I know he's going to be relieved I found you. Do you need me to bandage your wound before we head home?"

"It's fine. Let's just get …"

"Home." Scott finished the sentence when Johnny faltered.

Home? Johnny frowned. Not for the first time, he wondered where home was? Could Lancer really be his home? Guess he'd find out.

..

Ch. 3

(Doc)

..

I can't help wondering where he goes when he goes inside himself. Something happens in a gunfight, something that takes my son away from me again.

I watched Johnny face down the man in town. He knew the man's name, and tried to talk him out of it, but he couldn't. When gunplay was inevitable he grew still. He appeared relaxed, but his stillness spoke of something feral in him, something wild, like a wolf standing over his kill. When he drew his gun and fired it was so sudden I wasn't sure I saw it…until the man facing him fell to the ground, dead.

He pushed us away when it was over. He wouldn't even admit to being grazed by his opponent's bullet.

What a terrible skill my son has. What a terrible burden to be able to kill faster than anyone else.

..

Johnny and Scott came back with the sunrise. After breakfast I sent Johnny to the bath house to soak himself clean. I met him in his room to put salve on the graze, and I carefully bound it up. We chatted while I worked.

"Y'know, Murdoch, that son of yours is a keeper."

I laughed at Johnny's easy way of telling me of his affection for his brother. When Johnny talks, each word speaks volumes. It's one of the reasons he doesn't say much; he uses the bare minimum of words to make his point.

"He is that, Johnny my boy. So are you."

That embarrassed him. He scooted back to sit up against the head of his bed; I tucked some pillows behind him. He ducked his head with a shy smile and thanked me.

I decided now was the time. "Johnny, I'm grateful you're home, and not hurt any worse. But…I've been chewing on this all night, wondering… what is it like for you? A gunfight, I mean."

It took him a long time to answer. When he first came home I thought he was trying to avoid answering me, but now I know he's trying to get it straight. He told me once he never had much practice at talking things over. I can see how that could be true.

He started with a sigh. "It's hard to put into words, Murdoch."

But after another moment of silence, he found them. "When the moment comes, time slows down, down to a crawl."

He stopped and focused his eyes past my head, on something I could never see.

"It's like I can see my bullet as it flies into man I'm facing. But once it hits, time gets back to normal, only…only more. Everything is too loud, and too bright. If I could make everything stop for a few minutes…but I can't stop it."

Johnny shook his head with that self-deprecating chuckle he does so well.

"Sometimes, when time gets going proper again, I feel bad." Then he looked up to meet my eyes. "I don't like killing, Murdoch. I work real hard to avoid it."

He looked down at his fingers picking at the edge of the bandage. "But when it's them or me, I don't waste too much time worryin' about it."

He looked at me again. "I don't think I'm making any sense."

I, too, choose my words carefully. "I think I know what you're saying. I thought about this last night…I think, in those moments, you don't so much feel bad about yourself. I think you hate that necessity to kill other men or be killed by them."

I took a chance and kept going. "You have an awesome ability, John, in the truest sense of the word. I was awestruck with your calmness and speed, with the accuracy of your shooting. But it comes at a price, and I think it's all right to wonder if that price might be too high."

My son shuddered. I wondered if he's developing a fever.

"Y'know, it wasn't too high in the beginning. But now…" He breathes in and out through his nose, deeply, slowly. He swipes at his face and looks up at me.

"You tell me, old man. How high is it?" His voice is rough but his eyes are pleading. It's painful for me to see. He's asking me his life's deepest question—does he belong here?

Is Lancer his home?

I smile. "It's not so high, John." I lean forward and clap my hand on his shin. "I suppose it hurt my pride when you told the sheriff what happened yesterday had nothing to do with me. I hope you know that it did. That you are my son, and anything that affects you has something to do with me."

He looks surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you wanted anything to do with…with what happened."

"I hope I never have to see it again. I hope you never have to go through it again. But I'm your father, John, and this is your home. Never doubt that."

His smile is tentative at first. Then it grows into something crooked and happy.

"I'm real glad to hear that. Real glad."

His eyes sparkle, and my heart swells.

..

Ch.4

(SandySha)

..

Perched on the top rail of the corral, Johnny watched Juan and Frank bring in a new herd of mustangs.

The moment the gate closed, the horses began to explore their new home. The stallion ran the fence protecting the mares from the men standing around the outside of the enclosure. Frustrated when he couldn't find a way out, he fought back the only way he knew how. The jet-black stallion reared and snorted, cursing the new life forced upon him.

Johnny knew how it felt to be corralled after a lifetime of running free. He'd run the fence and fought the restraints, not knowing how to deal with a life where he didn't rely only on his gun.

With wild eyes and ears laid back, the stallion threw his dark head. Snorting, pawing at the ground the horse was suspicious of everything and everyone, not trusting. Johnny knew trust would come for the magnificent animal; it had for him.

Johnny wondered what price the stallion would have to pay for his new life. There was always a price.

..

It had been three weeks since the gunfight with Gabe Parker. Life on the ranch had settled into a quiet routine; so routine at times Johnny started to relax and enjoy not only the ranch but being part of a family. Madrid was tucked away; forgotten for now.

"John!"

Johnny looked over his shoulder; Murdoch stood on the veranda waving for him to come in. Glancing back to the barn he saw Scott walk out to see if everything was alright. His big brother did that a lot lately, made sure he was alright.

Smiling, Johnny raised a hand in the air. Twisting around and dropping lightly to the ground, Johnny straightened his gun belt and sauntered toward the house. His spurs jingling to the rhythm of his steps.

Johnny saw a smile spread across his father's face. He realized he was walking as if he were about to face a man down. Was that why the old man was smiling? No, that wasn't the reason. Ever since the two of them talked the morning after the gunfight with Parker, it seemed Murdoch hadn't stopped smiling.

..

What was it Murdoch said that morning when he'd asked how high the price was for Johnny Madrid to call Lancer home? For Johnny Madrid to become Johnny Lancer?

The answer had taken Johnny's breath away. The simple words that came so freely, with so much love: _"It's not so high, John… I'm your father and Lancer is your home. Never doubt that."_

Johnny hadn't realized it until the moment those words were spoken that the price had already been paid.

He knew he'd never have to wonder again, never doubt. He'd found a home at Lancer with people who loved him for who he was, people who didn't turn their backs when Madrid was forced to rear his head.

The past was just that. Now all he had was the future.

..

End

February 2019


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